Share My Soul, Part Two: Lovesick
by castielofasgard
Summary: [Sequel to 'SMS Pt1: Words That Bind'. Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate's first words to you tattooed on your wrist in white and they turn black on the day you will meet them] Pietro Maximoff used to have no idea what being in love felt like. Thanks a lot, Clint Barton. [Warnings: spoilers for Age of Ultron, language, excessive sappy pining :P]


Pietro had never been a patient person. He could blame it on his powers, being able to get anywhere and get stuff done ridiculously fast, but he'd been impatient long before any of that. So being stuck in a hospital bed for a week was torture. Especially considering how difficult it was for him to sleep. He needed the rest to get better, he knew he did, but ever since Hydra's experiments, he'd been kept awake by nightmares and the persistent, buzzing energy that flowed through his veins and made it nearly impossible for him to keep still for longer than a minute. So yeah, being stuck in bed was a struggle. Doctor Cho was nice; she was patient with him when he got fidgety and told him all about the machine that had saved his life (it was actually pretty interesting). Wanda spent more time visiting him than anything else, and she told him about what was going on in the world outside his hospital room and said that once he was better, they'd start training him to become an official Avenger. It was a comfort having her by his side as she'd always been, and she was able to keep him from getting restless like no one else could.

And then there was Clint. He'd been visiting Pietro nearly as much as Wanda was. The first few days, they didn't really know what to talk about, so they just sort of sat there and made idle small talk. On the third day, Pietro decided he'd had enough of this.  
"Okay, this is ridiculous," he said. "We're soulmates and we barely know anything about each other. All this chatting is pointless. And a little boring, no offense. I've been stuck in this bed for ages and it's starting to drive me mad."  
"Three days ain't ages, kid," Clint said. "But you're right, we're not gonna get to know each other by talking about how our days went. So let's work on that. You start."  
Pietro froze, staring at Clint uncomfortably.  
"I, uh... I don't know how..." he said.  
"What, you don't know how to make friends?" said Clint, clearly perplexed.  
"Well... not really... I haven't exactly had any..."  
Clint was staring at him in the most pitiful way and Pietro realized just how lonely his life had been. For the longest time, Wanda had been all the companionship he needed. Or at least in a long-term sense. So no, he didn't know how to make friends. Not in any way that mattered. Or lasted past him getting what he needed or wanted out of the exchange.  
"Okay then," said Clint. "We'll start out basic then. Nothing too deep right off the bat since I figure both of us have got some dark shit we'd rather not spill this early in the relationship."  
So they started. Clint asked him questions, and Pietro answered and asked the questions right back. It was easy, really. And, well... nice. Never in his life had he met anyone (apart from Wanda) who genuinely wanted to know everything about him, from his favorite color to his worst fear. He had always just been whittled down to a single part of himself for everyone else – a lab rat for Hydra, a weapon for Ultron, an urchin to people passing in the street – but Clint didn't want him in parts. He wanted all of him. To Clint, he was _human_.

Praise every deity known to man, Pietro was free at last. First thing he did was take a lap around the block, which ended with him feeling very winded and getting scolded by literally everyone. So he flopped down on the couch, scowling and bouncing his leg restlessly.  
"I've been cooped up for ages and now you're saying I've got to stay still? _Still_?" he complained.  
"You just need to take it slowly," said Wanda.  
Pietro scowled again and sighed irritably. Slow was not his forte.

Patience wasn't his forte either. Or love, apparently. Because he had no idea what being in love felt like. The only people he had ever known he loved were Wanda and his parents, and that was an entirely different type of love, he knew that much. So was Pietro in love with Clint Barton? He had no fucking clue. And it was _tormenting_ him. He went to Wanda with his problem, sure that she'd have an answer. She just told him that it was his heart, he was the only one who could know. Really helpful advice for someone who _had no idea how he was supposed to know when he didn't know how it was supposed to feel_.

Well, after an entirely sleepless night of wrestling with this problem of his, Pietro finally concluded that _everybody_ has to fall in love for the first time at some point, right, and they recognize it, so surely he'd know it when he felt it.

He found out sooner than he expected. The next morning, he was in the kitchen getting breakfast. Natasha was at the sink, clearing up her own dishes, when Clint came in, poured a mug of coffee, and gave her a good morning kiss. Something almost feral seemed to pull at Pietro's heart. He didn't think it was jealousy; Clint and Natasha kissed in front of him constantly, he was used to that and fine with it, and it wasn't like he didn't want Clint to be kissing Natasha. No, he wanted Clint to be kissing _him_ too. That in itself was a weird sensation. Pietro had never _really_ wanted to kiss someone, not like this.  
Natasha had gone back to her dishes and Clint took a long sip of coffee. _Spectacular_. He was jealous of a _mug_ now. Pietro licked his lips and found himself wondering what it would feel like to press them against Clint's...  
"Pietro, you okay there?"  
He snapped out of his trance just in time to for the glass of orange juice he'd absent-mindedly been pouring to overflow.  
"Shit!"  
He practically threw the jug onto the counter, definitely overreacting to a little spilled juice. Clint chuckled and grabbed a paper towel, then came over to clean up the mess. Pietro had been flustered already, but now it was off the scales. He was ninety-nine percent certain they had never stood this close to each other before. He could smell Clint's aftershave and, _damn_ , were his eyelashes even real?  
"Thanks," he managed to say.  
"No worries, kid," said Clint, clapping him on the shoulder before strolling out of the kitchen.  
Pietro gulped, unable to help himself as his eyes wandered down to Clint's ass in his (unfairly) tight pajama pants. Natasha laughed, and Pietro hurriedly tore his gaze away to find her grinning knowingly at him.  
"What?" he said defensively.  
"Oh man," said Natasha. "You've got it bad, Wonderboy."

So yeah. He might be a little in love with Clint Barton.

Okay. Was being in love supposed to suck this badly? Because _God_ , did it suck. His chest hurt constantly and his stomach twisted in knots anytime Clint was in the room and he could barely focus on anything because his brain was just a hurricane of Clint Barton and you know, maybe he should actually see Doctor Cho about this because surely he wasn't supposed to be feeling this ill. He didn't, of course, because he knew exactly what was causing this and none of the miraculous stuff in her lab could help him. The only thing that could cure Pietro was Clint Barton. And soulmate or not, he was too damn nervous to make a move.  
Which was ridiculous. It wasn't like he'd never _been_ with anyone before. He hadn't been nervous then. But this was different. This was special, not something to regret the next morning. For once in his life, he _wanted_ to take things slow. Just not _this_ slow. He'd like to get on with the kissing and all that, but he didn't want to rush into... well... other stuff. The problem was, while he might have had a couple of one-night stands in the past, that was the extent of his flirting skills.  
Sex he knew, and he wasn't ready for that. Not in the slightest.  
Romance? Well, he hadn't known what being in love felt like until a few days ago, let's leave it at that.

"I need help," said Pietro, sitting on the sofa next to Natasha and pulling his knees up to his chest.  
"With...?" Natasha prompted, peering at him over the top of her book.  
"Clint. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to do this. I'm hopeless."  
Natasha chuckled and set down her book.  
"So. How bad is it?" she asked.  
"What do you mean?"  
"You. Are you still at the 'spilling orange juice because you were staring at his lips' stage, or have you gone into full-blown pining?"  
"It's awful," said Pietro. "I can't stop thinking about him and half the time I feel like I'm having a heart attack and last night I walked in on Stark and his girlfriend watching _Titanic_ and I started crying."  
"It _is_ a pretty sad movie, to be fair."  
"It wasn't even the sad part!"  
"Oh. Okay, that's pretty bad."  
"What should I do, Natasha? You're his girlfriend. You should know," Pietro said desperately.  
"Ask him on a date," Natasha suggested.  
"What kind of date?"  
"You could take him to dinner. I'll give you directions to his favorite restaurant."  
"I don't have any money."  
Natasha sighed and stood up, beckoning him to follow. They went to her room, and Natasha dug around in one of the desk drawers for a moment. She shut the drawer and turned back around to face Pietro, pressing several bills into his hand.  
"There, now you do," she said.  
"I can't take this," Pietro protested.  
"Sure you can," said Natasha. "Now go ask Clint out to dinner."  
"What if he says no?"  
"He won't. I promise."


End file.
